


What I'm Trying To Hide

by invisibledaemon



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Mutual Pining, They're idiots in love, partially a team fic but mostly starmora, they're forced to tell the truth, you see where this is going
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 19:34:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10703670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/invisibledaemon/pseuds/invisibledaemon
Summary: First they were chased through the star system by a couple dozen pissed off A’askvariians, which was, arguably, a little Peter’s fault. Then they crash landed onto a moon inhabited by easily-angered plants – also somewhat his fault. Then, inevitably really, he was almost eaten by one of said plants… he was partially to blame there, too.But at least the flowers that compelled them to tell the truth were Drax’s fault.





	What I'm Trying To Hide

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I clearly know nothing about spaceships, so please excuse any shaky terminology there. :) 
> 
> Possible trigger warning for brief mention of being deliberately underfed (nothing graphic). 
> 
> Rating is for language. Title is from 'Resolution' by Matt Corby.

“This is all your fault, Quill!”

“My – behind you! – My fault?!”

“Crap!” Rocket spun his seat around, reaching for his second gun’s control, but Gamora had already taken aim, her position in the middle seat allowing her greater range.

“Haha! A righteous hit!” Drax cheered, as Gamora’s blast hit the wing of the ship that had come up behind them, spinning it out of control.

“Yes, your fault!” Rocket continued, now back to shooting the ships in the front.

“Now is not the time!” Gamora yelled. “Quill, just focus on getting us out of here!”

“What do you think I’m trying to do?” Peter steered the Milano around another ship that popped up in front of them. “Tell Rocket to focus on shooting!”

“I’m multi-tasking. And it is so his fault! He was supposed to be distracting the guard!”

“I was!” He yelled, swerving and ducking through the sea of enemy ships, frantically trying to find an escape route.  

“For what, thirty seconds? You were supposed to give us five minutes!”

“Yeah? Well Drax was supposed to go five minutes without _throwing someone through a wall!_ ”

“He was irksome,” Drax said impassively, taking out another ship.

“And the guard was not digging my charms.” Peter was actually still pretty upset about that. Flirting usually bought him a lot more time, even with shady A’askvariians who stole relics from sacred sites.

“So you try a damned dance-off?”  

“It worked before!”

“One time!” Gamora was clearly getting frustrated – or, more frustrated, because the failed mission and subsequent pursuit had already put her pretty on edge. She took out three ships in quick succession to vent her feelings.

“Well it might have worked this time if _someone_ hadn’t exploded the door to the vault! It’s a little difficult to distract people from that!”

“Hey!” Rocket snarled. “I wouldn’t have needed to blow up the door if Gamora hadn’t stabbed the only guy who could open it!”

“Concentrate!” Gamora said through gritted teeth. She quickly disposed of another ship. “There’s only two left!”

Peter and Rocket both paused, looking around at the mostly empty space that surrounded them – just one ship on either side and a moon below them.

Rocket cheered. “Damn, we’re good.”

“Let us annihilate them.” Drax turned the gun he was controlling toward one of the two remaining ships.

“That’s more like it,” Gamora muttered. Peter turned slightly in his chair to give her a triumphant smile at another escape, proving he wasn’t totally incompetent as a leader.

Which was when the blast hit.

“Damn!” Peter exclaimed, swerving out of the way a second too late. The Milano’s engine stuttered and slowed.

“We’ve been hit!” Drax said.

“Yeah, we noticed!” Rocket leaned over from his spot next to Peter to see the read-out. “That fucker took out our main thruster!”

Rocket continued to yell about how bad that was but Peter wasn’t really listening, as the Milano had started to drop.

“What’s going on?” Gamora asked, an edge of concern in her voice over the continuous firing of her weapon.

“We’re too close to that moon.” Peter pulled the controls back as far as they would go, but without their thruster, the Milano was falling fast. “It’s pulling us in!” They were practically speeding towards the surface, and it was all he could do to level their descent. “Everybody brace yourselves!”

“I am Groot!”

“Groot!” Rocket shouted. Peter spared a glance back and saw baby Groot running out of the cargo hold, where he was supposed to be strapped in; he’d only recently left his pot, and they had yet to install a fifth seat in the cockpit for him (it had been hard enough to squeeze in a fourth). 

“Get back to your seat, Groot!” Peter yelled, jaw clenched, steering the Milano as best he could to avoid a fiery crash.

“I am Groot!” He appeared about to listen, but slipped when the Milano started spinning.

Peter couldn’t really see what happened next; all he saw was a flash of green out of the corner of his eye, diving for where Groot had been. But he saw enough to panic.

“Gamora, no!”

Too late; the Milano started spinning even more out of control. They were barely a hundred feet away from the ground when Peter heard Gamora – and Groot – crash out one of the windows.

His stream of curses was swallowed by the sound of the impact.

 

Quick damage check.

Cracked console; broken window; surface damage to the underside of the ship; main thruster possibly beyond repair.

Two missing Guardians.

Peter was dimly aware of pain. His hand had slammed into the control panel and he was going to have a major bruise on his knee where it hit the console, not to mention the one on his chest from the constricting seatbelt. He could barely feel it, though, as he fumbled to unbuckle himself. 

“Everyone okay?” He called.

“Those of us who are still _here,”_ Rocket said, already sliding out of his seat.

“Did they…?” Drax trailed off as all three of them stared up at the hole in the window. Peter both cursed and thanked Gamora’s body mods. They were the only reason she’d been strong enough to bust through the window, but also the only reason she could have survived the fall. 

Rocket clenched his hands into fists. “That was a long fall.” He must have realized how scared he sounded, because he cleared his throat and added, “I don’t want to regrow Groot from scratch again.”

“I’m sure they’re fine,” Peter tried to convince himself… but he grabbed the portable med-kit, anyway.

The three of them jumped down onto the surface, which was covered in plant-life. The grass they were standing in was nearly as tall as Rocket, and there were scattered plants and trees every way they looked, though he’d managed to land them in a relatively clear area. There was smoke rising from beyond a line of trees that looked like the beginning of a forest, most likely where one of the other ships had crashed.

“Rocket, climb on Drax’s shoulders.”

“I am not going to _climb –“_

“To see if you can spot Gamora and Groot!”

Rocket made a face, but allowed Drax to lift him to stand on his shoulders.

“How far do you think –“

“There!” Rocket pointed to a spot to their right, towards where the trees started. “The grass is smashed down.”

“Wow, I didn’t actually think that would work,” Peter said, and took off.

They called for their friends as they ran and were met with silence. Peter’s heart hammered. _Please let them be there. Please, please don’t be dead._

Drax called their names again as they got closer to the trees, and this time Peter could make out a faint groan, followed by a muffled “I am Groot.”

Rocket made a choked sound, but Peter only allowed himself a moment of relief. At least they were alive, but who knew what state they’d be in?

“Gamora?” Peter practically yelled when they found them. They were in a patch of flattened grass that extended for quite a ways – they must have skidded when they landed. Gamora was laying on her stomach, but she was already rolling over when he slid to his knees beside her. Groot, who had been cradled in her arms, was completely unscathed. Gamora, though…

“Has she been injured?” Drax inquired.  

“I’m fine,” she insisted, though she somewhat hurt her case by scrunching her face up in pain. Worse, when she tried to lift herself up on her elbows, she collapsed back.

“You don’t look fine,” Rocket pointed out.

Peter had to agree, but he couldn’t seem to find his voice. There was a large gash on Gamora’s face, along with several smaller ones, but her arms must have taken the brunt of the fall; they had been scraped so badly that they were more red than green. The wristlets she always wore had been torn and shredded, hanging off her arms in pieces.

His real concern was her lack of movement, though.

“Do you need me to carry you –“

“I’m fine,” she repeated, and this time managed to sit all the way up. “Just sore.”

“You fell a hundred feet, of course you’re sore.”

“Not my worst fall by far.”

“I knew they’d be fine,” Rocket said, unable to hide his smile as Groot hopped up on his shoulder.

“That is false.” Drax looked confused. “You were quite concerned.”

“Let me bandage you,” Peter insisted, gently pushing on Gamora’s shoulder when she tried to stand. He quickly snatched his hand back at her glare, but she remained where she was; a bad sign, really. If she was in enough pain to not immediately jump back up…

“It can wait until we get back to the ship,” Gamora said. “What if more A’askvariian guards come after us?”

“They won’t.” Rocket waved a dismissive hand. “It’s not like we actually got away with the relic.”

“Still –“

“Hey, who’s the one who lectured me on proper injury care back on Xandar?” Peter said. “I didn’t want to go the hospital and you said –“

“You had _broken_ your _ankle –_ “

“- that waiting to get it set would only make it worse –“

“That was on a scale of hours, not minutes –“

“- and that I had to listen to my teammates –“

“Alright, alright!” Gamora scowled. Peter hid a grin; even after several months, it was difficult to get Gamora to allow herself to be taken care of. Annoying her was one successful strategy he had discovered. “But I’m doing it myself.”

Peter was about to argue, but Rocket cleared his throat pointedly, reminding him that he and Gamora were not the only ones there.

“Since you two a-holes clearly don’t need us for this, I’m going to go check on the other crash.” Rocket nodded his head towards the smoke from the trees. “We may need to replace the thruster, and that ship’s could still be intact.”

“I will join you,” Drax declared. “I feel awkward in the presence of the tension between these two.”

Peter felt himself flush. Gamora seemed to only feel more annoyance.

“Don’t touch any of the plants,” she told them. “I’ve read about the fauna on this world. They’re sentient and will defend themselves.”

“I am Groot?” He seemed excited at the prospect.

“None of them can talk, though,” Gamora clarified. “But many are dangerous –“

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll be careful.” Rocket, Groot, and Drax took off into the trees, leaving Peter and Gamora by themselves.

Gamora, working sneakily while Peter was focused on the others, had already grabbed the anti-bacterial out of the kit and was attempting to open it, despite being unable to hide a grimace as she did so.

“Gamora, let me do that!” –“ he reached out to take the ointment, realizing too late that he was using the wrong hand.

“Peter!” Gamora dropped the bottle ( _A win! He was counting it as a win.)_ and gently took his scraped and possibly sprained hand in one of hers. “What happened to your hand?”

“It tried to go through some metal.” His breathe caught in his throat when she used both of her hands to turn his over. He hoped she thought it was just from the pain.

“I’ll clean this up –“

“Uh-uh.” Peter pulled his hand away – a little too quickly, but he gritted his teeth to avoid crying out. “You can bandage mine if I can bandage yours.”

Gamora gave him a look that, two months ago, he would have called unamused. But now he could see the echo of a smile in her eyes, though her lips betrayed nothing. “Fine.”

“Thank you!” Peter grinned. Every time he got her to let him help her, it felt like a small victory.

“But I’m doing yours before mine.”

“Only if I can clean the cut on your face first.”

Gamora lifted a finger to her cheek, apparently surprised at the blood that appeared. “I find your terms acceptable.”

“Glad you’ve learned to negotiate with something besides swords.”

This time the resulting smile graced her lips, too.

“You know,” Peter said, dabbing at her gash with a cloth from the kit. “Jumping out of your seat while we’re crashing is not exactly the smartest thing you’ve ever done. And this is coming from a guy who’s done a lot of stupid shit.”

“I had to save Groot.”

“Groot’s a tree, he would have been fine.”

“You don’t know that. And I will not apologize for saving our friend.”

Peter sighed. “I’m not asking you to. But you have to think of your own safety too.”

“My body modifications –“

“Do not make you invincible. I’m not saying don’t save us – like, obviously, I need you to save my ass every other week, so it would be great if you could keep doing that – just, maybe, don’t knee-jerk risk your own life diving after Groot, who probably would have found something to hold onto and can literally regrow his limbs.”

Peter still felt a bit odd, being the one who had to lecture other people about safety. But his reckless streak often paled in comparison to the others’, with the exception of Groot; though the little tree and Gamora did have that self-sacrifice thing in common.

“I will consider this,” Gamora said, but with a half-shrug that meant she probably wouldn’t. “Though I did not intend to fall out of the ship.”

Peter chuckled and decided that was about as much ground as he was gonna get there. “Good to know.” He took the cloth from her face. “The bleeding’s mostly slowed. I just gotta…” he trailed off, holding a bandage. She tilted her head slightly to give him better access, and he reverently placed it over her cut. His hand lingered as the bandage settled onto her skin, adjusting to the shape of the cut to completely cover it.

“There,” he breathed. He flicked his eyes over to Gamora’s to find that hers were already on him. They were so close he could practically count her eyelashes. He swallowed nervously and tried to think of one of the dozens of lines he had for situations like this. But as usual, his brain shut off when he was around her.

Gamora was the first to look away. “Uh, thank you,” she said quickly. “Your turn.”

“Right.”

She cleaned and bandaged his hand with clinical precision, completely absorbed in her task. Peter watched the way her arms moved, the raw skin of her forearms making his gut clench with guilt. _All my fault._

He wasn’t really thinking about the mission, despite feeling guilty about that as well. While he’d defended himself in the prior argument about their attempted heist (“liberation,” Gamora insisted, because the relic had been stolen in the first place), the truth was that Peter was their captain. Ultimate responsibility for their failure rested with him, even though they’d all messed up one way or another. 

What he was really guilty about was the crash. He knew better than to lose focus during a chase. If he’d been paying more attention he might have seen the shot coming and dodged it in time; but now here they were, stranded on some freaking moon with a broken ship and an injured Gamora, all because he got distracted.

“There.” Gamora pressed down the end of the bandage, and it perfected its shape to fit his hand, hardening so its movement was minimized. The pain instantly lessened.

“Thanks.” He cleared his throat. “Uh, I showed you mine,” he said, trying to inject some roguish charm into his voice.

Gamora gamely rolled her eyes and held out her arms. Peter couldn’t repress a sympathetic hiss as the heavily scraped skin was brought into focus.

“It’s not that bad.”

Peter made a sound of disbelief, gently applying the ointment to her arms, trying not to aggravate the irritated skin even more. “And what about those other injuries you’re trying to hide?”

Gamora’s arms went tense for a moment. “How did you –?”

“You think I don’t know you by now? You’re holding yourself weird.”

She pursed her lips, displeased. Peter was sure she didn’t mean it to be adorable, so he suppressed his grin.

“Probably just scraped my side.”

“Then you won’t mind if I check?”

Gamora narrowed her eyes, but Peter stared her down. After a moment, her shoulders sagged. “I may have fractured my hip.”

“Gamora!”

“Peter Quill, if you lecture me again –“

“Hey, I do not lecture… but a _broken –_ “

“It’s in large part metal, anyway. It’s already healing.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?”

Peter pressed the last bandage down and released Gamora’s arm. He rubbed his good hand over his face, trying to think of how to word this in a way that wouldn’t make her clam up.

“Just… you know you don’t have to hide when you’re hurt, right?”

Gamora narrowed her eyes, then looked away. “I am not used to being able to show weakness.” 

Peter nodded. “Yeah, I know what you mean. The Ravagers weren’t exactly the ‘kiss it all better’ type, either. Nothing to Thanos, I know, but…”

She gave him an inquisitive look. “What injury could be improved by kissing?”

“No, it’s… nevermind.” He cleared his throat, trying to steer his mind away from the path it had gone down when Gamora said ‘kissing.’ “Point is, none of us are gonna judge you for showing a weakness… I mean, except that time you fell asleep in the storeroom and we found out you drool in your sleep.”

Gamora shook her head in exasperation, but she smiled, the tension in her shoulders dissipating. “Yes. It was unwise of me to reveal that.”

“But you know, besides that.”

“I appreciate the reminder.” Her smile changed, softening from relief into something gentle, something that made Peter’s heart kick it into high gear. He couldn’t help it, even knowing that it didn’t mean anything; at least not what he wanted it to mean. Gamora cared about him, but not in the same way he cared about her. She’d made that extremely clear back on Knowhere, and had never indicated that she’d changed her mind.  

So he looked away, reaching down to pluck a long piece of grass out of the ground. “Wonder how long it’s gonna take them to get that part.”

Gamora accepted the change of subject easily. “Shouldn’t take long at all, if they heed my advice and don’t touch any plants.”

“Yeah, the three of them are not always great at the advice-heeding.”

Gamora snorted in agreement. Peter, feeling his playfulness return, scooted so they were sitting close enough for their knees to touch. She raised a questioning eyebrow, and he said “You know, I can turn this grass into a musical instrument.”

She looked at it skeptically. “I cannot see how.”

“Watch.”

He flattened the piece of grass and brought it to his lips. It took him a few moments – it had been years since he’d done this, and it had been different grass – but he eventually got it to make a loud, squawking sound similar to the one he remembered from his childhood.

Gamora blinked, which was basically her equivalent of recoiling in shock.

“See?” He grinned proudly.

“I don’t see the point. There’s no utility in that.” She plucked her own piece of grass from the ground, twisting it between her nimble fingers. “You could weave enough of these pieces together to make an adequate piece of rope. Or a whip.”

“Can you just make _anything_ into a weapon?”

Her lips turned up slightly. “Any good assassin can.”

“Well, I think music has its own ‘utility’ or whatever.”

“I would hesitate to call that music.”

Peter gasped, hand to his heart. “You insult me,” he said in a regal, offended voice. Gamora laughed, one of his favorite sounds. He fiddled with the grass in his hand so he’d have something to do that didn’t involve staring at her.  

“This is pleasant,” Gamora remarked after a few moments, gently running her fingers through the grass around her. “The grass is much softer than it is on Xandar.”

“Upside to me stranding us on an empty moon,” Peter said, less jokingly than he’d meant to.

He could feel Gamora looking at him but he studiously kept his eyes down.

“You didn’t strand us. The pilot who shot out our main thruster did.”

_Because I got distracted and didn’t dodge it._ He hummed a noncommittal sound.  “Good job taking out like, almost all of them, by the way.”

She was silent and for a moment Peter wondered if she was going to insist on discussing whose fault it was. But her desire to correct him won out. “I took out less than half of the enemy ships.”

Peter smirked.

“Ah. You were intentionally exaggerating again.” Gamora was still working on the finer points of Peter’s figures of speech. “You do that a lot.”

“It makes a point. Try it.”

“I don’t –“

“Go on, I dare ya.”

She sighed. “Fine.”

He raised his eyes in time to see her concentrating face, which was one of his top 15 Gamora facial expressions. She twisted her mouth and scrunched her brow, just a little.

After several minutes, during which time Peter had totally _not_ been staring at her, she finally spoke. “There are 500 billion stars in the galaxy.” She grinned.  

“Uh… is that an exaggeration?”

“Yes!” Her smile fell when she saw that he didn’t get it. “There are only 400 billion.”

He tried to hold it in, he really did. But her earnest expression just did him in and he cracked up.

“I don’t like this game,” Gamora said over his laughter, crossing her arms. Peter sobered himself up with considerable effort, because her pout (dear god, he’d never call it that to her face, she’d stab him) nearly made him break down again.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he said, traces of laughter still in his voice. “It’s okay, it’s just not your thing.” She stayed silent, and Peter started to worry that he’d actually hurt her feelings. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I like the way you talk.”

She frowned. “Is that a Terran figure of speech?”

“No, no. I mean it!” He reached out before he could stop himself, cupping one of her wrists gently in his uninjured hand. “You say what you mean, you know. It’s nice.” Of course, she could talk in gibberish most of the time and he’d probably still like it just because it was her.  

She blinked at him, eyes searching his face, and Peter suddenly became aware that he was basically holding her hand. He’d held her hand one other time (well, two times, if you counted the Infinity Stone incident), back on Knowhere when he first let her listen to his Walkman. That memory kept him warm at night and he couldn’t help but think of it again now, looking down at their hands so close together.

Then he remembered that was the same day she’d resoundingly rejected his advances with a knife to his throat and he snapped out of it. He released her wrist. “Sure is taking them a while,” he said, just for something to say.

Gamora stiffened at his words. “They should have been back by now.” She stood up and stared at the edge of the forest next to them. 

“Smoke could be further away than it looks,” Peter said, but he got up as well.  

She was shaking her head. “No, it’s not that far in. Even if they had trouble getting to the part, it shouldn’t have taken them this long.”

“Let’s go after them, then,” Peter said needlessly, because Gamora was already striding into the forest. “Do you think something could have actually happened to them?”

“If they were foolish enough to touch any of the plants, yes.”

He thought of Rocket, not taking Gamora’s warning about the plants seriously. And Groot, who had been fascinated by the idea of more sentient plant-life. And Drax, who could be provoked into doing just about anything.

Yeah, there was pretty much no chance they had managed to not touch any of them.

 

*****

 

Gamora made every effort to walk normally, despite the fact that she still felt the effects of her fall. She knew she didn’t have to be afraid to show weakness, but old habits died hard. Plus, she didn’t want any of her teammates questioning her fitness when she was hurt.

Well, Peter was the only one foolish enough to do so out loud. _The moron._

Ugh. Even in her head that sounded more fond than critical. She couldn’t even be properly annoyed at him anymore. Her feelings for Peter were becoming inconvenient.

Earlier on, she’d been able to dismiss them, or at least repress them. They’d pop up at certain times and then she’d forcefully shove them into the back of her mind again. Frustratingly, the more she got to know him, the harder a task this became, to the point where she couldn’t even manage it while walking through a forest of dangerous alien plants.

“Did you hear that?” Peter asked suddenly, stopping in his tracks. She did too, and after a moment she heard it.

“Sounds like Rocket cursing. And Drax yelling.”

Peter let out a curse of his own and the two of them sped up as much as they could while still being cautious of the foliage around them. It didn’t take long to trace the voices to their three companions – their stupid, _stupid_ companions, who had clearly ignored her advice.

Or at least, Rocket had, as he was currently being wrapped up in long vines from a tree stump-looking plant that had a wide opening near its roots and appeared to be trying to drag Rocket into it. Drax was tugging on his legs, trying to get him away, and Groot was repeatedly announcing his name to the plant. 

Gamora reached for her sword only to find the sheath empty. It must have slipped out while she was falling from the ship. She was about to grab the small knife she kept tucked near her ankle when Peter, who had run ahead to join Drax in pulling on Rocket, gave up on that angle and reached for the vines instead.

“Peter, don’t!” She shouted, running forward. But it was too late – Peter had grabbed the vines, trying to wrench them away from Rocket.

It happened quickly, before Gamora could even get to him: the vines dropped Rocket to the ground, grabbed both of Peter’s wrists, and started pulling him in. It got his arms half way into the hole before Gamora and Drax grabbed his legs.

“Peter!” Gamora felt as though her heart had leapt into her throat, but this was no time to panic. “You imbecile! I told you not to touch anything!”

“Well, gees, I’m so sorry!” He bit out, twisting his arms around to try to break the vines’ grip.

It wasn’t really the time for berating, either, she supposed, even though she dearly wanted to tell him that grabbing an angry plant to save their friend _wasn’t the smartest thing he’d ever done_. But it could wait. “Drax, do you think you can hold him while I try to free his arms?”

“I can hold onto anything!” Drax proclaimed.

Gamora let go and went to the base of the plant, trying to find a way she could hack at the vines without touching them or hurting Peter.

“Uh, not to rush you or anything, but I think I feel teeth.” Peter tilted his head back to look at where his hands disappeared into the hole.

“I cannot detach the vines without cutting you!” She nevertheless took her knife and started trying to slice through them.

“I’d rather that than be eaten!”

“He is heavier than I anticipated,” Drax said through gritted teeth. Peter’s arms slipped a little further.

“Hang on!” Rocket had taken off his pack and was frantically fiddling with it, removing pieces. 

“I am Groot!”

“If it didn’t let go the first fifty times you told it, it probably won’t now!” Rocket said, and he started wrapping his pack around Peter’s leg.

“These plants communicate mostly through contact,” Gamora said, wincing as she cut Peter’s skin. At least she’d gotten one of the vines off. But there were still easily a dozen, and they were tough to cut through.

“Ah-ha!” Rocket grinned, and pressed a button on the pack now attached to Peter’s leg. Flames shot out with force, and Drax let out a triumphant yell as he started to win the tug-o-war.

“Ow!” Peter yelled, looking down at the flames. “Dude!”

“Rocket, you’re burning him!” Gamora said.

“Oh, crap!” Rocket turned it off, a hole already singed in the thigh area of Peter’s pants. “I – Groot, what are you doing?”

Groot had extended the branches of his arm and was reaching towards the stump. Gamora started to tell him not to, but he had already made contact. And the vines holding Peter seemed to still.

“I am Groot.”

“What is he saying?” Drax asked.

“He’s still saying let go.”

Groot repeated his name several times. And then, a triumphant “I am Groot!” followed by the plant releasing Peter.

Unfortunately, it released him while Drax was still pulling with all his might, so that Peter didn’t so much fall back as _shoot_ back several feet, taking Gamora, Drax, and Rocket with him.

The four of them collapsed to the ground. Gamora’s arms stung and the healing of her hip was definitely set back a few hours, but those were minor problems.

“Peter?” She extricated herself from under his shoulders, Drax shoving his legs off him and Rocket. “Are you okay?”

He was breathing heavily but he nodded, sitting up. “And I thought Groot was an angry tree.” He held his injured hand gingerly, and Gamora was about to reach for it to feel for broken bones, but then he looked at her and his eyes widened in horror. “Shit, are _you_ okay? I’m sorry –“

“I’m fine.” Gamora gave him a confused look. “You’re the one who nearly got eaten.” She left out the _‘you idiot’_ but felt it was understood.

“And landed on you when you’re hurt.” He covered his face with his hands.

Gamora shared a look with the others. Drax looked as perplexed as she felt and Rocket shrugged. Groot was still talking to the stump.

“You landed on us, too, you ungrateful little…” Rocket’s muttering trailed off as he removed his pack from Peter’s leg and slipped it back on.  

Peter quickly snapped himself out of whatever reverie he had entered, shaking his head and standing up. He offered Gamora a hand, and she took it, still too off-balance to tell him to _shove it, she could stand up herself._ “Peter, your hand –“

“I’m fine,” he said, slowly lowering his arm. She wanted to insist he let her look at it, but there was something in his face that made her hesitate. “Everyone else okay?” He asked, glancing around at all of them.

“Peachy.”

“I have suffered no injury.”

“I am Groot!”

Gamora nodded once. Peter’s eyes lingered on her bandaged arms, but he remained expressionless.  

“Then let’s go,” he said. “And let’s try not to touch any more plants that want to eat us,” he added with a pointed look at Rocket. 

“I just _brushed_ against it,” he said defensively. “And hey, at least I got the part.” He picked the hunk of metal and wires, which Gamora hadn’t even noticed before, off the ground.

“I am Groot.”

“Thank you! Groot appreciates me.” 

Gamora was too used to Rocket’s mostly-for-show grumbling to comment. Besides, she was using up most of her concentration keeping a neutral expression while concern for Peter overwhelmed her thoughts. She knew he was fine, but the ‘what if’ scenarios played in her mind and refused to be shoved away.

It was quite irritating. She wished she could stab her own feelings.  

“How long you think it’ll take to fix the ship?” Peter asked Rocket.

“For any puny mortal, hours. Me? Twenty minutes tops.”

“I am Groot.”

“Yes, technically I’m mortal.” She could hear the eye-roll in Rocket’s voice. “You know what I mean.”

“These flowers are aesthetically pleasing,” Drax said out of the blue; he’d apparently been ignoring the others’ conversation. Gamora paid none of them any mind until she saw, out of the corner of her eye, Drax actually reach for one of the flowers.

“No!” She shouted at the same time Peter and Rocket yelled “What the hell are you doing?” and “Stop, dumbass!” Drax quickly yanked his hand away, surprised by the outbursts, but only after already brushing his fingers against them. 

“Dammit!” Peter cursed as a wave of miniscule spores came off the flowers and immediately flew at them – and then, flew right _through_ them, out their backs without them feeling a thing. 

“The fuck?” Rocket muttered, looking down at his torso as if to check for sprouts.

“What part of don’t touch anything did you not understand?” Gamora hissed.

“Did you say 'anything'? I thought it was only the trees.”

She practically growled.

“She said don’t touch anything,” Peter said, frustration tinging his tone. “ _I_ said don’t touch anything. I thought we were all clear on do not touch anything!”

“I frequently tune you all out.” Drax shrugged.

“That’s incredibly frustrating,” Gamora said without really meaning to. Which was her first clue.

“What the hell just went through me?” Rocket was still focused on this.

“Spores,” Gamora said, again without thinking about it.

“Your one word answers drive me crazy,” Rocket said, and then made a face.

“I do feel a little different,” Peter muttered, holding a hand to his head.

“That worries me,” Gamora said, and she officially did not need any more clues. She absolutely did not mean to say that, and certainly not in such a nakedly honest tone. Thankfully, Peter didn’t seem to think much of it.

_Don’t worry,_ Gamora thought. _Just don’t tell them what it is. Maybe they won’t figure it out._

“What was that shit?” Rocket asked her directly, and there went that plan.

“Honesty Flowers,” she answered.

They all looked at her, horrified.

“Like - like a truth serum thing?!” Peter sputtered.

“Not a serum,” Gamora said. “But essentially yes, it makes us tell the truth.”

“About, what, everything?” Rocket put his hands on his head, as if trying to keep the confessions inside it.

Gamora had time for a quick sigh before being compelled to answer. “I have never experienced it before, but according to previous study, it is mostly just what we’re asked. The spores essentially lower our inhibitions and compel us to tell the truth by shutting off our ability to make things up.”

“That was a really roundabout way of saying yes,” Rocket said.

“You dislike my one word answers, you dislike my explanations.” Gamora threw her hands up. “Which is it?”

“I’d complain either way! I use sardonic humor to vent my frustrations and aaarrgh!” He grabbed two fist-fulls of his own fur. “What –“

“Stop asking questions!” Peter yelled, putting his hands out as if to stop a physical altercation. “Seriously, can we please all agree to not ask questions of each other unless absolutely necessary?”

“That was a question,” Drax pointed out.

Peter groaned. “Direct questions, then. This is mutually assured destruction here. We all have to tell the truth, so if you ask a question, you’ll get asked one back and we’ll all say things we’d rather not.”

“Not me,” Drax said loftily. “I have no use for dishonesty.”

“It’s not about honesty, it’s about privacy,” Gamora said, studiously not looking at Peter. 

“How long will it last?” Rocket asked.

“Depends on the dose. An hour, perhaps.”

“Terrible.” Peter frowned. “I meant to say ‘great.’ I can’t even use sarcasm?”

“See?” Drax grinned. “A bright side.”

“Let’s just get back to the ship now.”

“Why?” Rocket smirked. “You afraid of what you might tell us?”

“Yes,” Peter said, scowling. 

“I am Groot!” 

Rocket heaved a put-upon sigh. “Groot would like to be diplomatic and note that everyone is probably afraid of what they might say.”

“I am not,” Drax asserted again.

“Yeah?” Rocket seemed to take that as a challenge.

“I will defeat any question you send my way.”

“This is a terrible idea,” Gamora said.

“How come you never wear a shirt?” Peter blurted out. “I’ve been wondering that since I met you.”

“Shirts make me feel confined, which reminds me of being immobilized while my family was murdered,” Drax said. Then he growled.

“I’m real uncomfortable now,” Rocket said.

“Me too,” Peter said, looking fearfully at Drax.

“I am concerned for your safety,” Gamora said to Peter, glancing at Drax.

The angry man took a deep breath. “I concede your point about privacy.”

“I am Groot?”

“Okay, we can go now.” Rocket quickly took the lead. Groot sat on his shoulder, chirping his name over and over. Gamora wondered if he was confessing something, but Rocket never translated.

They made it back to the ship with minimal incident. Drax occasionally remarked on the swift defeat they’d handed their adversaries, but that was typical Drax behavior post-battle. Peter, who already had an abnormally porous brain-to-mouth filter, spent several minutes describing his new fear of being eaten by a tree stump.

But no one faced any immediate threats to their physical safety or revealed anything embarrassing, so Gamora was satisfied.

“Do you require assistance with the thruster?” Drax asked Rocket once they had boarded the Milano.

“Just someone to watch the readouts to make sure I don’t blow anything up,” Rocket said. “Because I’m not nearly as experienced at repairing ships as I pretend to be – dammit.” He clenched his fist. “I hate those flowers.”

“I’ll do it,” Gamora said. “I need a distraction.” _Dammit._

She all but ran to the front of the ship, starting up the screens. It was an easy, mindless job, but Gamora was grateful for it anyway. Hopefully she could just stay up here until the effect of the spores wore off.

All seemed well for a while. The readouts were stable and the ship was quiet.

“Get _out,_ humie!” The sound of a crash reverberated around the Milano.

Well, the readouts were stable.

“Okay, okay!”

Gamora steeled herself. Peter had obviously been bugging Rocket, which meant he was coming for either her or Drax next; a bored Peter tended to be an annoy-everyone-in-sight Peter.

Sure enough –

“Heeeeeeyyy, Gamora.” Peter came sauntering up and leaned against the chair next to hers. “You busy?”

“No,” Gamora said reluctantly. “The screen would flash if there was a change. I just needed an excuse to avoid talking to you.”

Only the years of training kept her from visibly wincing. She hoped Peter took that as a collective ‘you’ instead of particular to him.

“Yeah, I get it.” He nodded in that fake casual way that usually meant he was up to something. “I don’t want you guys to find certain stuff out either.”

“Then why are you here?”

He grinned and Gamora grew concerned. “I couldn’t resist. We’ve all gotta tell the truth? How can I not take advantage of this?” He looked like he was genuinely baffled that anyone expected that of him.

“What happened to mutually assured destruction?”  She asked as she frantically sought a way out of this. She could just punch him, but was afraid she’d then be unable to hide her feelings, because an injured Peter always stirred her stupid feelings.

“Decided it was worth it. I’ve got some stuff I’ve gotta know!” He sat down, looking excited. Gamora contemplated running off, but didn’t want to leave the console just in case Rocket did decide to explode something. “Nothing too personal, don’t worry!” He assured her.

“Quill, I swear –“

“Does my music really bother you?”

“No, I enjoy it,” she said through gritted teeth.  

Peter was delighted. She tried to think of something to ask him to shut him up, but couldn’t come up with anything she thought would embarrass him enough to drop this.

“Why won’t you ever dance with me?”

“I’m afraid of looking foolish.” She clenched her fists and re-examined her ‘just punch him’ idea.

“I bet you’d look awesome dancing,” Peter declared. “You look awesome all the time!” He frowned a bit, fidgeting in his chair.

Gamora jumped on it. “What do you mean by ‘awesome’?”

“Totally hot. Adorable. Beautiful. All of the above.” He may have been uncomfortable at his confession, but he quickly got over it. “Why do you eat so little at meal times when I catch you eating so often in the middle of the night?”

She answered, and hated herself for every word she was unable to stop herself from saying. “Thanos used to keep us hungry as a motivational tactic. I got used to sneaking food whenever I got away from my trainers, usually at night.”

Peter’s face fell and Gamora turned away from him, not sure if anger or embarrassment was her foremost emotion.

“I am so sorry,” Peter said. “Gamora, I never meant for you to reveal anything that personal, I swear! And you know I’m telling the truth because I have to!” He truly looked stricken, which perversely made her feel a bit better. “Thanos is a major dickhole and I’d like to personally rip his throat out for ever hurting you.” The raw anger in his voice dispelled some more of hers – though she was still pretty furious. “Look, ask me anything! I know I owe you that.”

Gamora crossed her arms and stared at him, a calm but fierce stare that made him squirm a bit. She wanted to ask him something personal in return, then remembered that this was her teammate, her friend, and unknowing recipient of her irritating feelings. Perhaps she should go easy on him.

Then she remembered _screw that._

“What was bothering you after you bandaged my arms? When you said you stranded us here?”

“I feel really guilty that I got us shot down and nearly killed you and Groot.” 

Gamora had suspected as much. “Why do you think it’s your fault?”

“Because it was,” Peter said like it was obvious. “If I had been paying more attention I could have avoided the shot.”

“You were doing all the right evasive maneuvers,” Gamora told him. “You couldn’t have avoided it. And if you hadn’t steered into the crash so well, you all probably _would_ have been killed. I could have survived. Possibly Groot.”

He shook his head. “It’s still my fault. I’m the captain, so it has to be. The mission going south is my fault, the crash is my fault, you getting hurt is my fault, getting myself nearly eaten by the living tree stump was definitely my fault –“

“Stop!” Gamora felt a, probably irrational, surge of anger. It must have been evident in her voice because Peter did stop talking. “We are a team.” She leaned forward in her chair to make sure she had his attention. “We succeed or fail together and your title of captain does not make you sole bearer of responsibility for everything we do. Got it?”

He shrugged. “I –“

“It’s _not_ your fault.” It was extremely important to her that he understand this. “You know I’m telling the truth.”

“That’s an opinion, it doesn’t –“

“Fine, you know it’s my opinion that it’s not your fault. I don’t blame you and I’m sure none of the others do, either. If you don’t stop blaming yourself I would be willing to put you in a headlock until you do.”

Peter actually laughed at that – more of a snort, and more self-deprecating than she would have liked, but still a laugh.

And then it happened - the thing she’d been dreading since she realized what those flowers were.

“Why do you care so much?” He asked.

“Because I love you.”

_Fuck._

Peter’s eyes widened comically, head snapping back in shock. Gamora pressed her lips together as though she could prevent what had already happened. Blood was rushing to her face, embarrassment and terror welling up inside her. She couldn’t take her eyes off Peter. Time seemed to sit still while she waited for him to say something.

He gaped at her for a moment. “You – what?! You love me?”

“Yes,” Gamora was forced to say. She glared at him, even as he jumped out of his seat and let out a joyous ‘whoop!’

“I can’t believe it!” He said, grinning.

She sat there for a moment, confused and still extremely embarrassed. His celebration seemed like a good sign, but she refused to get her hopes up.  

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” He asked, apparently unconscious of her discomfort.

“Partly because I’m afraid you don’t feel the same way, and –“

“What?!” He looked at her like she’d just said something absurd. “Don’t – Gamora, I love the shit outta you!”

Ah. Well. Gamora was feeling… something. She smiled, stopped herself, then full-on grinned. Peter dropped to his knees in front of her, a look of amazement on his face, and – yes, that was the word. Amazed. Gamora was feeling amazed.

Peter reached up to cup her face gently in his hands. “Can I kiss you?” He whispered.

“Yes.”

And then he was and it was… something. Soft. Reverent.

Incredible.

“Gamora,” Peter breathed, pulling back only centimeters, resting his forehead on hers. She brought her hands up to grip his arms, stroking his wrists where they still rested on her face. She kept her eyes closed for a moment longer, a rare peace overtaking her. Strange, to go from inner chaos only moments ago, to this.

She opened her eyes to find his already open, gazing at her from so close. It was probably the most intimate moment she’d ever experienced, yet didn’t make her nearly as uncomfortable as she would have thought.

“I thought you knew,” Peter confessed quietly. He detached his forehead from hers, and she slid her hands up to grasp his. They dwarfed hers, covering them completely, yet with her body mods she could probably snap his wrists as easily as twigs. To have him trust her like this was still a foreign feeling, and it was one she intended to treat with the honor it deserved. 

“How could I have known?”

“I flirt with you all the time!”

“You flirt with everything that moves.”

“Hey, nice exaggeration!” He smiled proudly. She didn’t have the heart to tell him she was only repeating something she’d heard Rocket say before. “But I do not!”

She raised an eyebrow.

“I never flirted with Groot.”

“Fine, any sentient non-fauna that moves.”

“I never flirted with Drax.”

“What about that time you – “

“He was teaching me how to throw a knife, oh my god!” He laughed, and she joined him. “Hold on. What was the other part?”

“Other part of what?”

“You said you didn’t tell me partly because I might not love you back – which is still baffling, by the way – so what was the other part?”

She hesitated for a moment, finding strength in the pressure of Peter’s hands in hers. “I feel… inadequate about… relationships.” The word tasted strange on her tongue, almost juvenile. She _felt_ juvenile. She may actually have been blushing. “I did not exactly have time for them while under the control of Thanos.”

“Hey, I’ve never been in a relationship either!” She must have looked skeptical, because he clarified. “Longer than a day, I mean. And I wouldn’t really call those relationships, so… I got the sex thing covered, though. I’ll rock your socks there.”

Gamora didn’t even bother to ask what rocks and foot coverings had to do with sex.

“Point is, who cares?” Peter continued. “There’s no pressure in this. Nothing has to change, except we get to kiss now, right? And I can hold your hands like this and maybe also tell you how awesome you are without getting stabbed?”

“I’ll decide on a case-by-case basis,” she said regally.

“What about this case?” He leaned in closer to her again.

“This case is good – wait.” She paused, realizing something about the way they’d been speaking.

Peter let out a whine and pouted, mostly kidding (probably 88% kidding).

“Peter, try to lie.”

“Huh?”

“I think the effects wore off.”

“Oh! Uh… I don’t like your hair.”

Gamora gave him a look, and he quickly said, “That was a lie! You said to lie. I love your hair. Seriously. Probably should have picked a different lie.”

“I wonder how long it’s been…” She tried to think back over their conversation to figure out when she’d stopped feeling compelled to tell the truth, but couldn’t remember.

Peter shrugged. “I swear I was never lying, though. Except about your hair. Again, I love it.”

“I know,” Gamora said to quiet his rambling. Then she kissed him again for good measure.

“Aaw, crap,” Rocket said, and Gamora and Peter quickly pulled apart. He was standing at the entrance to the cockpit, hands on his hips. “Thanks a lot. Now I owe Drax fifty units.” Then he walked off, shouting, “I find your love-fest disgusting, by the way!”

“We know the truth thing wore off!” Peter yelled back. “You love us!”

“You’ll never prove it!”

“I’ll pick one of those flowers! See if I won’t!” Peter stood up. “Hey,” he said to her. “Let’s go bug him with our love-fest some more.” He waggled his eyebrows in that way he did when making a crude joke.

“Absolutely not.”

“Fine. I’ll do it myself.”

“What? How?”

“Just gonna talk about my feelings til he barfs.”

“I think he’ll kill you first.”

“Not if you’re there to protect me.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Cuz you love me.” He grinned proudly. “And I’m gonna tell him that! In detail!” He winked and dashed off.

“Peter!” Gamora shouted after him. “Peter Jason Quill, don’t you dare!” Silence. “Don’t believe a word he says, Rocket!”

She ran after him, but despite some real annoyance she couldn’t hold back a smile.

The desire to stab her feelings had ebbed.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So there's my first Gotg fic! Vol 2 is obviously about to squash this and I couldn't be more excited!! :D


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